Phantom
by RenataUsha
Summary: A fusion between GWand Phantom of the Opera. The next installment is up. Sorry to all recurrent readers for the long wait. non-yaoi (2+R/1+R triangle thing), AU fusion. If you read, PLEASE review!!!! Thanks.
1. prologue

Title: Phantom 0/?  
Author: RenataUsha  
Pairings: 2+R/1+R (triangle thing)  
Rating: G  
Warnings: non-yaoi, AU fusion  
Disclaimers:GW and PotO aren't mine and nevr will be. *sigh*  
Authoress's Notes:  
  
Here's the prologue to my Phantom of the Opera/Gundam Wing fussion.   
I hope you like it. I hope I didn't do any OOC for you too much. And   
please-feedback, feedback. This is the first fanfic I ever really wrote.   
I'd apprciate any kind of feedback positive or no. Some of the plot   
has been changed from PotO to fit my version of this story.  
  
Any resemblence to another work other than the mentioned above   
is purely coincidental and unpurposeed.  
  
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"Now. Once again...pirette..." The steady tune from the used piano   
reverberated through the open grand auditorium, dark except for the   
lowlit chandiler above the orchestra pit and scattered candlebras   
lining the red plaster walls. Shadows danced over the crowd of   
empty seats from the rehearsing girls bouncing across the worn wooden   
floorboars to the instructions of the stingate ballet mistress. She   
recited loud numbers keeping the dancers in rhythum. Her falcon eyes   
shot over the group. She waved her hand calling a halt and for them   
to stand in beginning position. The diligent teacher wove through   
the dozenly place girls, each in the same position. She stopped   
periodically to inspect girls personally. "Straighten your back,   
Mariemaia." She attentively changed one brunette's arms and pushed   
one girl's feet into proper position. "Remember, Syliva. Heel   
before toe."  
  
"Yes, Mistress Catherine," Sylvia replied with a smile in her bright   
eyes.  
  
"Okay, girls. Again."  
  
As the ballet dancers continued their steps under Mistress   
Catherine's guidance, a strong chord sounded a slight ways behind the   
curtain for the opera chorus practicing fully for the next opening   
production to be preformed at the Sanc Opera Populaire. The full   
choir of thirty men and women garbed in threads of royal togas and   
Carthaginan armor crafted of plaster filled the room ot the   
accompaniment of the also practicing orchestra attempting to perfect   
their preformance works for gala night.  
  
"No, no, no! Carlot! More breath support under the legato! You're   
starting to sound like a broken oboe," the choral director shouted   
out as she approached harshly from behind her music stan, and stood   
straight before the group of singers, glaring around inspecting her   
bunch. "Now. Remember. This is your savior, the general who is   
driving back the invading armies of Rome for your homeland. So, sing   
out your worship for him!" she hollered out to them, raising her   
hands to begin again.  
  
Suddenly a swift shade passed over the corner of both ballet and   
choral directors' eyes, a blurry shadow speeding across above them   
from up in the rafters where the shifters changed the scenes and   
backdrps, one or two sandbags oddly swinging the only clue of someone   
passing through between them.  
  
"Mistress Une, everything alright?" cam a voice by the hall leading   
to the manager's offices.  
  
Choral instructor Une turned around to set her brown eyes on the   
Opera House's manager Sally Po. Manager Po ws leaning against a wall   
with her arms crossed over her chest, a curious look on her face and   
a bit of suspicion gleaming in her blue-grey eyes. "No, Lady Po,   
nothing is wrong," Une commented shortly to the manager beofre   
turning back to her choir. "Now...again."  
  
As the choir rang out their chords blending with the notes for the   
orchestra, two young girls danced from behind the draping curtains   
mixing with the other singers, but still staying prominent from   
them. While the back chorus formed an aisle between them, the two   
girls jumped up into the air in the center of the aisle only to end   
up colliding with each other. Instructor Une growled in frustration   
as she halted all performances and strode over to the two fallen   
girls. She faced the dark-haired one first. "Don't worry, Hilde.   
You did fine, but-" she turned to the other one "-Relena Peacecraft,   
what was that all about?! Clumsy, clumsy!" Une retorted as she   
marched the two girls down the aisle to stand there. She called out   
when she had made her way back to the stand, "Now for Elissa's   
entrance. Dorothy!"  
  
The prima donna of the opera appeared from behind the scene of a   
marble palace bedecked in layered gauze of saffron and lamb pink,   
flashy costume jewelry sparkling from her body and long platinum   
hair. Teh prop of a severed head from a roman soldier clasped   
between her alabaster hands. Dorothy Catalonia cast a smug snear at   
the ballerina Relena before turning to face the empty audience   
chamber filled with rows of maroon upholstered seats. Another shadow   
passed overhead as hse proceded down hte aisle of admirers.  
  
Her soprano voice reverberated out across the darkened   
auditorium. "This troo-ooo-oo*oo*o-phy from our savior, our savior   
from the enslaving forces of *ROOME*!" she sang out walking down the   
aisle raising the prop high for all to see. Suddenly while the two   
ballerinas Hilde and Relena pranced down behind to the front, a   
heaving sandbag fell from the rafters above nearly hitting Dorothy if   
she had not been pushed from the projectile's path. Screams and   
shouts echoed through the auditorium as stagehands ran onto the stage   
to inspect the sandbag. Une and Catherine attempted to comfort a   
hysterical prima donna.  
  
A new scream sounded as a chorus girl cried out claiming to see a   
figure dash off of the rafters into a corner of shadows, a long cloak   
and braid billowing behind hte shade. A group of ballerinas huddled   
together excited chorusing that he ws here: the phantom of the   
opera... A loud exclaim rang from the inspecting group of stagehands.  
  
Sally Po called out to the hollering mass, "Wufei, what happened?  
  
The master scenceshifter held up the end of hte rope connected to the   
sandbag and turned his suspicious black glance to her, "Manager Po,   
it appears the rope was cut by a knife."  
  
A heavy sigh escaped Sally as she waved the stagehands to take care   
of the cast and clear the scene of debris. She walked down the hall   
to her offices with a look of frustration on her face. This was the   
last straw. Upon entering, she moved behind her desk and opened hte   
drawers, shuffled through the papers scattered across the surface,   
and through the paper holders looking for a slip of   
parchment. "Winner, Winner, ah-here." She had had enough of this.   
She sat down to write the letter of acceptance on the Mousiers Winner   
and Barton's proposal to buth the Sanc Opera Populaire. "Let them   
deal with the ghost!" she whispered irritated as she finished signing   
her named and sent for a messenger to run the letter.  
  
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TBC............................. 


	2. chapter 1

Title: Phantom 1/?  
Author: RenataUsha  
Pairings: 2+R/1+R (triangle thing)  
Rating: G for now.  
Warnings: non-yaoi, AU fusion  
Disclaimers: GW and PotO aren't mine and never to be. *sigh*  
Authoress's Notes:  
  
Thanks to everyone who is reading this right now. Outside of the   
archive, I had alot of silence on this part.I register that as no  
interest given toward is and have gotten pretty discouraged by it.  
I decided to continue putting out this story. I like it personally.   
  
Well, it's a fusion between Gundam Wing and Phantom of the Opera,  
with my own tastes thrown in. The Gundam Characters are in character  
(or at least are meant to be given some the setting atmosphere),   
just in the setting and outline of the Phantom storyline.  
  
Again, thanks for reading and please review for me. Feedback always  
is welcome, constructive or no.  
  
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A faint shower drizzled down from the overcast skies causing the twin   
pair of carriage horses to shake their ebony coats of the previous   
downpour. The coach driver quickly tugged his blue coat closer   
before he leaned over and rapped lightly on the carriage door. The   
door opened and a black clad gentleman stepped out. He stood tall   
viewing the immense structure that was the Sanc Opera Populaire. He   
tugged on the last black glove that was hidden under his thick cape-  
coat onto his slender hand, then proceeded to adjust his top hat as his   
similiarly clad partner paid the coach driver and watched the   
carriage off.  
  
"Well, Trowa, what do you think of our new purchase?" he asked of his   
partner when he moved up the smiling man. Trowa quickly placed his   
own hat over his chesnut hair and stared up at the building. The   
granite stone towered ominiously over the two. The metal roof   
ornaments of angels, crowned by the massive statue of Apollo and his   
lyre standing majestically before the rusty ceiling dome, cast faint   
shadows down the numerous steps leading up the double front doorway   
and upon the gemtlemen at the bottom of the stone staircase.  
  
Trowa cast his green gaze to his partner. "Good, Quatre, Good."   
Quatre flashed an approving smile and nooded the toward the door.   
The young entrepreneurs proceeded up the steps to accept their new   
enterprise.  
  
* * *  
  
"Ah, Mousiers Winner and Barton. It's good to see the Poplulaire   
pass on into fair hands," Sally concluded handing the Opera House   
deed over to Trowa and collect the five hundred thousand francs from   
Quatre. She moved out from behind her former desk to open the door.   
After turning the knob, she swiftly opened it and smiled satisfied,   
gesturing for the two new co-managers to exit through the open   
doorway. "Now, shall I give you the tour of your new Opera House,"   
she said as Quatre and Trowa went through the door and she behind   
them closing the wooden door.   
  
Sally led them down the narrow hall toward the backstage regions of   
the open auditorium. The old familiar poundings of the twenty about   
ballet dancers against the floor filled the room, carried in pace by   
the voice of the ballet mistress. The three managers watched the   
going-ons curiously. A strong tune suddenly floated up into the   
musty air where choral instructor Une drilled the lead tenor. "Now,   
Trieze, remember. Rome, no Roma," she tipped of her singer before   
beginning to practice his role as Hannibal.  
  
Sally walked the two managers through the crowds of rehearsing actors   
and working stagehands. She halted slightly in front the   
open. "As you can see, gentlemen, rehearsals for the production   
of 'Hannibal' are well underway." They walked more into the center   
stage for a better view of the onstage and offstage activities.   
Gesturing toward the activity around the piano, she   
stated, "Gentlemen, the woman on the piano is choral instructor Une   
and the singer is our lead tenor Trieze Khusrenada. An excellent   
show he can put on." Trowa watched the instructor and tenor   
intentively while Quatre inquired about the other cast members of the   
Opera Populaire. Sally smiled gleefully at his enthusiasm for the   
business.  
  
Before she could reply, a short redhead hotly strode up to them and   
stood with her hands on her hips. "Excuse me, but please! Would   
you kindly move to one side?" she requested exasperated. The three   
stared over just to see they were in the way of the quickly advancing   
ballet corps. The diligently stepped over to the left and the ballet   
proceeded on in step.  
  
"She, gentlemen, is our ballet mistress, Catherine Bloom. With Une,   
this place could be ruled with a tyrant-like disipline," she   
introduced as Catherine wandered off back to her dancers. Sally   
released a heavy sigh as she turned back to the new managers. Trowa  
held his attention on the former manager while his partner let his   
blue-green eyes wander over the ballet. "Truthfully, I can't wait to   
leave the whole entertainment business behind," she confessed more to   
herself.  
  
Trowa cast a quizzitive eye on her. "Why exactly were you retiring,   
Madmoiselle Po?" he asked of the silent woman.   
  
A nervous expression crossed her face before she shrugged it off. By   
passing the question, Sally turned their attention onto the ballet.   
One girl rose up in a leap before the back dancers and lowered to   
raise on her toes. Her pristine dress caught the eyes of the   
managers. Quatre pointed out a gloved hand inquiring who the   
ballerina was.  
  
"Her? Hilde Schibeker. A very promising one, Mousier Winner, very   
promising," Sally replied proudly. Suddenly a young blonde   
sidestepped over her toes and teetered, but kept from falling right   
on her belly. Catherine released a frusturated growl as everyone   
chuckled at the girl's misfortune. Soft snidding mockeries and   
muffled snickers rose from where a young woman was chatting with some   
other actresses. Quatre's ear perked up upon overhearing Mistress   
Catherine scolding the girl for her clumsiness. He turned back to   
Sally.  
  
"Peacecraft? Odd. Is she by any chance related to the famous  
violinist in anyway?"  
  
Sally pondered a moment before replying, "I think she is his daughter   
actually." She turned about as though looking for something. Soon   
coming to halt her search, the co-managers realized all rehearsings   
had stopped. She cleared her throat before announcing, "Ladies and   
gentlemen, you have heard the rumors of my possible retirement from   
the management of this House. I tell you now... those rumors are   
true." A slight commotion waved through the auditorium, but was   
silenced when she raised her hands. "I am glad to introduce to you   
the new managers of the Sanc Opera Populaire, Mousiers Quatre Winner   
and Trowa Barton," she said motioning to the two.  
  
The previously mocking woman apprached the managers and curtsied low   
in from ot them, a bright sheen reflecting off of her thick platinum   
hair. She cast a welcoming smile on her crimson lips. "I'm hurt to   
hear you are leaving, Manager Po, but I am glad to see the Populaire   
will be in good hands." She curtiesd to Trowa and Quatre flashing   
them a questionable eye.  
  
Sally smiled in pride as she turned to with her hand stretched out   
toward the young girl. "Gentlemen, may I introduce our prima donna,   
Dorothy Catalonia. She plays superbly opposite Mousier Khrushrenada."  
  
Quatre just bowed back while Trowa eyed their Italian diva. A ghost   
of a smile crept onto his emotionless face. "Madamoiselle Catalonia,   
I believe there was great aria of your queen Elissa before we   
entered. Would you care to sing a personal section for us?" he   
requested of her.  
  
Dorothy nodded a proud acknowledgement. She lifted the saffron   
skirts of her costume and strode over to the practicing Une and   
Trieze. After a few words with the intrstucor, Dorothy took Trieze's   
place by the piano and Une inquired whether two bars was sufficent.   
Upon the managers' affirmation, she keyed out a soft melody which the   
diva joined in on a minute later. "Think of me-think of me fondly-  
when we've said-goodbye. Remember me-once in a while-" Her golden   
voice repeated from every corner of the dark auditorium to bounce   
back to the source. Quatre grinned pleasantly at their private   
performance. Trowa stayed stoic while Sally reflected a sad   
pleased expression.  
  
Suddenly when Dorothy reached half way down the second bar, a loud   
crack followed by a large wooden groan drowned out her voice as the   
canvas backdrop of a painted tropical city came crashing down   
separating half of the casts. Panic flooded amongst the rehearsing   
members causing them to dash all around the stage away from the   
fallen backdrop. A small dettachment of ballet girls huddled   
together chorusing the 'phantom' was here again. Trieze   
hurried over to Dorothy yelling out if anyone was concerned for   
their prima donna.  
  
When the backdrop was raised again by its wooden support beam, Sally   
locked her angry gaze on the figure of Wufei Chang up in the rafter.   
He shrugged while stating, "I wasn't up here, Madamoiselle Po. I   
inspected and no one's up here, and, if there is, well, it must have   
been a ghost." This accosted another chorusfrom the ballet girls,   
led by Hilde, who stared with imagining eyes up at the darkened rafters.  
  
Trowa appraoched the two soloists to help Dorothy from her fallen   
position on the stained floor. Quatre hustled over to the group of   
ballet girls and shot them a stern gaze. "Madamoiselles, please!   
Will you show a little courtesy?" Catherine quickly gave an apology   
for her girls' impertinence and rounded them up to lead them off to   
their dressing rooms. He turned to the now standing Dorothy. "Are   
you alright, Madamoiselle Catalonia?" A fatalistic expression   
crossed his face as he gently smiled and clasped his hands   
together. "These things do happen."  
  
Dorothy focused an angered snear at her manager as she dusted of the   
layered skirt flowing around her. "Si, these things do happen.   
These things happen just as they have always happened. Well, if   
these things continue to happen, my voice will not continue for your   
services," she snarled at him. Calling for Trieze, he retrieved her   
furs and followed her as she stormed out of the crimson auditorium.  
  
The three managers just watched where their prima donna had left a   
minute before; Quatre dubmfounded, Trowa his usual stoic, and Sally   
with an expectant face. She turned to the co-managers and, releasing   
a heavy sigh, gave a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry. Dorothy has a   
tendency to do that. She'll be back with all her glory. wWell, there   
insn't much more I can do to help you, so, mousiers, if you need me,   
I will be in my apothecary on 7th avenue. Farewell and good luck."   
She gave one last curtsy before heading off toward the offices to   
gather the last of her possessions.  
  
After the new managers watched her disappear around a corner,   
Mistress Catherine approached them with a note in her slender   
hand. "Excuse me, managers, but a note has arrived for you from the   
Opera ghost." Quatre released an exasperated sigh while Trowa only   
took the parchment form the ballet mistress and scanned the red   
scribblings. "He welcomes you to the Sanc Opera Populaire. He also   
reminds you to continue to leave Box Two alone for his purposes and   
that his salary has not been paid."  
  
Trowa perked up from the scribbled paper piqued with curiosity and   
caution. He eyed her questionably. "His salary?"  
  
catherine released a nervous look toward the two inquiring   
gentlemen. "Manager Po paid the Opera Ghost about twenty thousand   
francs a month." She let a sly smirk slip by them. "You perhaps can   
afford more with the 'Perfect Soldier' as one of your prominent   
patrons." A chitty flutterings echoed throughout the chorus and   
ballet girls at the name of the Populaire's patron. Toward the back   
of the group, a nervous Relena squeezed her friend Hilde's small hand.  
  
Quatre cast a hushing gaze to their ballet mistress while Trowa   
approached choral instructor Une and inquired, " Mam'selle Une, is   
there an understudy for the role of Elissa?"  
  
A surprised expression washed over her facing telling him that   
question wasn't brought up much for the leading role. "Uh...no,   
mousier-the production is new."  
  
Just then, Hilde quietly snuch out of the mass of ballet girls and   
approached Trowa from behind, lightly tugging his grey jacket to   
catch his attention. Upon his turning toward her, she flashed a   
bright smile saying, "Relena Peacecraft can sing it, sir."  
  
His eyebrow cocked up a centimenter in question. "The ballerina?"   
he asked skeptically rememberig the young blonde fumbling around the   
stage. The hint of doubt of her having a voice was apparent in his   
question. She answered with a vigorous nod.  
  
Before he could release another word, Catherine was before him   
reaffirming what Hilde had just said. "Yes, manager. Let her sing.   
She will no doubt surprise you." She flagged the girl in question   
over from her studdering practices. A worrying shadow clouded over   
Relena's face as she watched the two managers.  
  
Une's voice sound up behind her. "Relena, here." She led the young   
girl over to the position by the old piano previously held by   
Dorothy. The other four's gazes followed them in tow. The choral   
instructor ordered from the beginning of the diva's aria of the small   
singer while she flawlessly keyed out the piece's opening   
accompanient.  
  
"think of me-think of me fondly-when we've said-goodbye..." Relena's   
soft voice floated through the large auditorium. A crystalline hint   
in her song casting such a difference from Dorothy's golden tone upon   
the pleading operatic aria. A sudden burst of breath lifted her   
diamond-like melody across to the back of the chamber and up into the   
rafters as she fell into the chorus of the solo. As Relena   
continued, a surprised grin spread over Quatre's face and a pleased   
curve perked up on Trowa's mouth. Hilde just watched with an  
extremely proud expression on her own face.  
  
All concentrated on the new discovery, no eye passed to the black   
shade that stood reaffirming the backdrop's stability. It passed for   
a moment to listen to the lovely tune before dashing off into a   
shadowy corner and disappearing into its crannies.  
  
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TBC.......... 


End file.
